Dust

The air was heavy, still and scorching the evening of the first launch. A bloodred sunset through the industrial haze struck me as a fitting backdrop for the site of humanity’s greatest success, and its greatest failure.

“To finally set out to inhabit another planet while leaving a stripped, uninhabitable ruin behind. That’s a fucking irony if I ever did see one. Hell of a trade off.” I shook my head.

My only companion on this dusty mesa was the weathered husk of what used to be a tree, before they took the last of the fresh water to ration for drinking while the Arks were built and launched. The ragged end of a snapped branch revealed years of decreasing rainfall, until in the end the rings were nearly impossible to separate by eye. The tree died an unjust and thirsty death. Still, he listened to every word I said and only ever responded with the wisdom of silence. Even in solemn decay he is a fine conversationalist.

I sat in the tree’s meager shadow and shuffled for some comfort in the rocky soil. The launch was ticking down, and I wanted to see how the rest of the world was taking the whole thing. Flipping open my vitals locket, I scrolled to the screen that averaged the heart rates of the remaining human populace.

“That’s pretty high,” I remarked to the tree, “Wonder how many will have heart attacks out of panic before their names are pulled for an Ark.”

Silence.

“You’re right, I suppose. That really is so likely that it's not at all amusing. Still, perhaps they'll end up better off for not seeing the new world.”

I shrugged, turning back to the glowing heart shaped screen in my palm. Might as well read some last news before this planet’s funerary dirge officially began, in all its noisy explosive finality.

Millions Publicly Gather In Remaining Cities to Watch Televised First Launch.

Government Still Offering New World Incentives For Ark Lottery Signup: Results Mixed.

Some Countries Consider Enforcing 3 Child Minimum Policy to Rebuild Population During and After Ark Flight.

Pre Buy New World Real Estate! Featuring Natural Landscapes and Scenic Unexplored Views! Call SuperStellar Realty to Reserve Your Space Today!

“Disgusting”

I closed the locket and shifted to look back across the plateau beneath me. The shape of the crowd was fitful with excitement, and also with fear. Not all of them were here to support this launch. There were those who were angry at this last commitment of resources being used to doom a planet rather than attempt to restore it.

‘It will be more cost effective to just evacuate.’ This is what we were told. The last of the fresh groundwater was being piped into these rockets, and when the last of them launched the earth would be a wasteland. Any who chose to remain would quickly die of heat or thirst. Even knowing this, many were hesitating to decide whether to sign up for passage or remain behind.

The mixed crowd ceased movement abruptly, then stepped back in unison as a light began to rise at the base of the ship, and soon the thunderous roar of immense engines broke the still air around me. I watched with bated breath as the massive craft slowly forced itself off the launch pad. The Ark, and several others like it, had been built to house and feed thousands of people on their journey through space. In most places, the first crafts set to launch were booked nearly full. After the excited first, however, numbers of volunteers had begun to drop off.

Not caring if its fellows would follow in the months to come, this first titanic ship ascended steadily and surely, defying its insane weight and structure. It shone against the deepening crimson of the sky like a star falling in the wrong direction, a testament to the capabilities of humanity. A testament, as well, to how that capability had been wasted.

“And the rocket’s red glare…”

I wondered briefly if that ship would carry the old National Anthem all the way to whatever new planet it was headed for. As it continued to climb, someone in the crowd started to cheer, and shortly they were all waving their arms happily as the receding ship began to pass through the low orbit atmosphere. It looked like the bastards were going to do it after all.

I squinted up at the toylike rocket in the sky, then over at the tree, then back up again,

“Were those sparks I just saw?” The tree did not answer.

The flashing around the ship came again, and the sky began to sparkle. The cheers of the crowd turned to screams of horror as pieces of the ship's casing began to rip off and rain down, flaming, through the atmosphere.

The debris had been called the Starlight Connectivity Project, and its goal had been the improvement of technological life on earth. It was meant to be the global computer system to end them all, providing the ease of a modern life to every corner of the planet. However, the cost of the project inevitably outweighed the benefit of watching free cable. The disastrous effects of heavy lithium mining and use of water in cooling systems had left vast tracts of land bone dry and full of useless holes. With the steady decrease in population due to rising sea levels, violent weather patterns and drought, more and more of these satellites became unnecessary, and were abandoned. They floated, powerless and purposeless, waiting for the day that humanity would recover and flourish again. When the building of the Arks began, only a handful were left functional, just enough to power the network of heart shaped monitoring devices which recorded the vitals of every registered citizen.

The tree and I watched, stunned, as the multitudes of unused satellites in the atmosphere ripped the last hope of humanity to screeching metal shreds. It lasted only moments before the fuel tanks ignited and the ships explosion turned the encroaching evening once more into daylight.

“The bombs bursting in air…”

What had been a horrified crowd below was then illuminated into a different kind of beast. It had begun to dawn on the crowds across the world that we were all stuck here on this dry rock. That the last ditch escape route which sealed the planet’s fate had always been closed, and that their years of hope and sacrifice had been for nothing. People were beginning to progress, one by one, into true panic. Opening my locket, I watched the world collective heart rate rise as the population meter started to drop, quicker and quicker. I closed it again, for the last time.

“Suppose it doesn't matter anymore,” I chuckled darkly, “‘One’s demise is always of one's own making,’ as they say.”

Pretty soon, there wouldn't be any governments left to monitor our health or to ration us out our water. I put my hand to the back of my neck where the cables of the locket connected to the vein. Not anymore. I took a deep breath, gripped the connection firmly, and yanked. The pain, surprisingly, was bearable.

“Shoutout to the powers that were for putting small needles in us, I guess.” I looked at the thing, wound up, and threw it as hard as I could off the cliff's edge. It twinkled out of sight.

“This just became a free man’s country again.”

The light had faded quickly, as desert light does, to a thin band of yellow on the dark horizon. Its departure revealed the fires that were beginning to spring up in distant populated areas. There would be riots for a long time, people looting, neighbors and friends blaming those who had supported the building of the Arks. There were likely to be a great deal of people who would rather die quickly, on their own terms, rather than wait for their own desiccation. My plan was to avoid them all.

There had always been the possibility that the Starlight Project would prevent objects from leaving the atmosphere, but the chance was represented as slim to none. Still, it was enough for me to have skipped out on a ticket for the first or second launch. Nobody could have fathomed the inaccuracy of the data that was presented to us. Now we all had to fathom it too late.

“Well,” I stood up and slapped my dusty palms clean on my jeans, “This is gonna be a royal shitshow. I trust that you'll do just fine up here, but I’ve got to be getting out further from the devolving populace. I think I’ll head north, drop down into the old canyon and start ripping the city water lines off the springs as I go. There has to be something left that people haven't fucking destroyed. I’m gonna find it, I’m gonna water it, and if I don’t end up dying there alone I’ll come back down and visit you again.”

I reached for a sturdy looking branch that lay where the tree had lost it.

“I’m taking this with me. Still going to need somebody else to talk to along the way.” I slapped the tree on the back, a hopefully temporary farewell for a good old friend, and set off into the darkness at the end of the world.